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coopigeoncoo · 3 hours

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Meat Cute, Chapter 2

Chapter Links: One, Two

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

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In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Extermination came and went with you wrapped up in all the blankets from your bed, crammed into the walk-in cooler Hal used to age gigantic slabs of meat. Once the distant screams had died down you were quickly pulled from the fridge and put back to work, barely able to hold a knife in your frost nipped fingers.

“Lotsa screaming means lotsa bodies,” Hal explained, tying the strings of his apron around his wide hips in a tight double knot. “And lotsa bodies means lotsa meat. ”

As though summoned by his words, a forceful knock sounded from the delivery entrance; a salesman bearing the first of many scavenged corpses sold to the shop for a quick buck.

You stared down at the man laid across your chopping block, his face contorted to showcase the abject terror of his final moments.

“I'm sorry this happened to you,” you murmured quietly, fingers tracing the jagged cut that had ripped the man open from pelvis to sternum. “But I promise to do a better job than they did.”

The angels had cut his life short.

And then you cut him into pieces.

It didn't seem particularly fair to you, but you supposed it was as balanced as things could be in Hell.

Hal, in a rare show of mercy, gave his employees the weekend off to recuperate from the pre and post Extermination rushes. You had been content to hole up inside your cramped apartment and sleep for the full two days, but once you remembered your promise to Ms. Rosie you managed to pull yourself out of bed and get dressed with a minimal amount of cursing.

It wasn't difficult to find her once you actually managed to wake up enough to stumble down your apartment stairs without breaking your neck. You'd pass by Franklin and Rosie's Emporium often enough running errands for Hal. It would be hard to avoid the boutique considering it was smack dab in the middle of main street; placing it along just about every route through town.

The Emporium offered a wide selection of impeccably tailored clothes you couldn't ever hope to afford with your meager earnings. It was nearly impossible to swallow back the sour burn of envy roiling in your belly at the sight of the smartly dressed women spinning in front of mirrors in their tailored waistcoats and silver buttoned shoes. You self consciously soothed out wrinkles in your burgundy colored skirt, the fabric likely permanently creased from being trapped under the tight sash of your butchery apron.

The checkout line moved slowly as every patron stopped to chat with Rosie or the woman standing beside her, and it felt like a small eternity had passed before you made it to the front of the queue. Rosie's eyes widened as she saw you, a bright smile stretching across her face as she quickly skirted around to the front of the counter.

“Take over from me, Franklin!” Rosie called out to her companion over her shoulder, motioning you to follow her with an excited wave of her hand. “I've got a special guest visiting!”

Rosie led you to a darling two person cafe table pushed into an alcove with a giant window overlooking the central square of Cannibal Town, where a barbershop quartet was starting to attract a fair bit of attention from passers by. Rosie was silent as she slid up behind you, but the weight of her aura was somehow palpable; like a humidity that clogged the air and made breathing a laborious task.

“It's pretty peaceful for a place called ‘Cannibal Town’, isn't it?” Rosie boasted, but you couldn't fault her for her pride. You knew from stories around town that the orderly life on display was the result of her tireless effort to secure a better life for the sinners under her rule.

“It is,” you agreed readily, sliding carefully into the chair that one of her attendants had pulled out for you while Rosie settled down across the table. “You've built a lovely community, Ms. Rosie.”

“Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing!” Rosie chirped in delight, hoisting a tray of finger foods up under your nose. “Canapé?”

You were too nervous to be hungry, but grabbed a couple of crackers topped with thin slices of blood sausage and dollops of roasted marrow to be polite. Not sure what to say, you quickly popped one of the hors d'oeuvres into your mouth immediately and hoped Rosie would take hold of the conversational reins.

Rosie, mercifully, rose to the occasion.

“So, you seem to be fitting in pretty well around here. That's unusual these days,” she said, deftly pouring some piping hot bone broth into dainty porcelain tea cups. “Hard to find new sinners willing to live without television or cellular phones.”

You couldn't help but think of how much of your life had been squandered in front of screens; the endless hours of scrolling and watching and seeing and wanting - of wondering why your life never seemed to compare to the ones that clogged your social media feeds.

“Those- those things do me more harm than good, I think,” you admit between small bites of sausage.

“Oh, honey. Those gadgets are nothing but trouble for everyone,” Rosie cooed comfortingly before angling her head down to mumble into her cup “especially down here.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over,” Rosie laughed dismissively, pushing a platter of finger sandwiches towards your now empty plate. You grabbed the one with a thumb poking out, saving the sandwiches stuffed with choicer pinky digits for your host.

“It's nice to see you don't shy away from the…specialized fare Cannibal Town is known for,” Rosie said approvingly, watching as you skillfully de-nailed the finger in your sandwich. “Did working at the butcher shop help acclimate ya?”

“A bit. I won't lie, it was really hard at first. I spent a lot of time pretending that I was eating other stuff- beef, pork, a really convincing soy substitute,” you admit. “But after a little while that started to feel, I don't know, disrespectful?”

“Oh?”

“It's like- this person is nourishing me. I am alive because of them. It didn't seem right to pretend that they were somehow less than what they were; especially when they were providing me with so much. Acknowledging their life, what they were-” you paused, considering your words along with the remaining phalange held between your fingers. “It's the least I can do. A way I can thank them.”

You feel a bit vulnerable from your confession, never having voiced your thoughts out loud before, and it takes you a moment to muster the courage to look up from your hands and meet your host’s gaze again. Rosie is positively beaming at you, her small nose crinkled in delight.

“I need you to promise me you'll try and get out more, sweetie. It's very inconsiderate for you to deprive the citizens of Cannibal Town of your company,” Rosie said, leaning over the table to place her hand on top of yours, the press of her fingers a balm to your touch-starved soul. “You're one of us now. It's time to start acting like it.”

You'd reluctantly started to make appearances around town. It started small, with short walks around the park when the belladonna began to bloom, followed by the weekly al fresco concerts once the early spring acid rains tapered off.

And then suddenly a switch seemed to flip. People would wave good morning to you from across the street, customers would ask about how your weekend was, and your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work. You'd gone from merely existing in Cannibal Town to really living in Cannibal Town.

You tried to not dwell on how much happier you were in Hell than you were on Earth, fearful about what exactly that said about the sort of person you were.

The years ticked by and before you knew it the workers at the butcher shop had surprised you with a lopsided devils food cake to celebrate your fifth death day.

“When you're facing down eternity you don't celebrate every single year,” the girl who usually worked the register explained. “Five is the first milestone party, followed by twenty-five and fifty. They get more spaced out as time goes on.”

You had woken up early the next day, dehydrated with a headache pounding behind your eyeballs from overindulging at your death day celebration. Hal, in a show of incredible foresight, had scheduled you for the afternoon shift. With a mug of watery coffee in hand, you were slowly shambling to the threadbare armchair in the corner of your room when the broken radio on the side table suddenly began shooting off sparks; the device alight with an eerie green glow.

“SWEET SASSY MOLASSY,” you screamed, accidentally spilling coffee down the front of your dressing gown as you leaped away from the ancient box radio.

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air!” a staticky voice greeted, the cheery tone completely at odds with your abject misery as you pulled your soaked nightgown away from your chest to cool your singed flesh.

The radio was loud, the volume knob having been set to maximum when it suddenly powered on; but the sound inside your apartment was nothing compared to the uproarious cheers you heard coming from outside as the citizens of Cannibal Town overjoyed by the return of their favorite radio program.

#pigeoncoos🕊#hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader

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coopigeoncoo · 5 days

Text

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: One, Two

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

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–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part. You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time. Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival. The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color. You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices. The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell. Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie. Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from. That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour. That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking.

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders. In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade. You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle. He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin. Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure . “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar. It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination. Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside. You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel. “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb. “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station. “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin. “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you. But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop. You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting. While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form. But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter. “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town. Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh - my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed. “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year? ” Rosie gasped. “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now. But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her. “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line. “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’? I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x female reader #alastor x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

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